


my love

by djelibeybi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Brienne is shy about showing affection, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, and a few pirates, and overthinks everything, just a lot of fluff, married jb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi
Summary: Brienne had been married to Jaime for three moons now, and she was still not entirely sure how to behave.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 58
Kudos: 309





	my love

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to knifeears on tumblr who came up with the idea of Brienne calling Jaime 'my love' for the first time, and to the anon who asked me to write a fic about it. The concept has been living rent free in my head ever since so I hope this does it justice <3

Brienne had been married to Jaime for three moons now, and she was still not entirely sure how to behave.

It was absurd, really, because it was _Jaime_. Jaime who had fought the Others beside her and jumped in front of a bear for her and fainted in her arms in a bathtub. She had nursed him back from the verge of death, cleaned up his shit and vomit, washed him and dressed him as if he were a child. And he loved her, she knew that, even if she did still hear Septa Roelle’s voice in her head from time to time. There was no good reason why she should ever feel anything but comfortable in his presence.

But he was her husband now, and she was his wife, so of course some things were bound to change between them. The title of _wife_ had come with a new pressure, a weight of expectation that she had not realised she would feel. There were things they were supposed to do, habits they were meant to fall into, but Brienne was not entirely sure what they were. She had never expected to be anyone’s wife, let alone the wife of someone she loved, and there were times when she wasn’t sure if she was doing it properly. She felt too young, too awkward, too unprepared.

Jaime, however, seemed to take to the role of husband very naturally; he had an easy way of showing affection that she envied. He called her by an ever-rotating list of endearments, some sincere, some teasing – _wench, sweetling, sweet girl, lady wife –_ that left a warm feeling in her chest, even when she rolled her eyes at them. He was always touching her, too – pulling her into his lap, wrapping his arm around her waist, rubbing her back. Every night she fell asleep in his arms, and on the nights when she couldn’t, he would stroke her hair and tell her long nonsensical stories in a low, soothing voice until she did.

These things did not come so naturally to Brienne, though she wished they did. It had taken her long enough just to accept that he would not flinch away when she touched him, and even now she wondered if that wariness would ever fully leave her. Over time, she had grown more confident in bed – she was still a little shy about it, but he had proven to her beyond a doubt, many times, that he wanted her – but it was the little, everyday things that felt awkward. Seeking him out and then worrying in case he wanted to be alone. Wondering whether she should hold his hand in front of other people, or if that would embarrass him. The little things she wanted to do for him, like washing his hair or helping him dress, but didn’t for fear of offending him or making him think she was trying to mother him.

She wanted to call him something too, like one of the many endearments he was always calling her. _My love_. It felt natural in her head – it sprang into her mind every time she looked at him. Watching him spar with Pod, or throw his head back to laugh at some joke, his golden hair catching the sun. Sometimes it felt as though the whole world could not hold all the love she felt for him, and all she wanted was to say it. To make certain that he knew. She had said _I love you_ before, of course, but that seemed reserved for more serious moments, and she wanted to say it lightly too. To tack it on to the end of a sentence like an afterthought, as if it came to her lips as easily as breathing. _Come back inside with me, my love._

But she had never said anything like that before, had never called him anything but Jaime (at least, not since the days of _ser_ and _Kingslayer_ ) and she had an absurd fear that she would stumble over it somehow, or that it would sound unnatural in her voice, and that he would laugh and she would blush and never want to say it again.

It was irrational, she knew. All of it was irrational. Jaime would welcome any affection she gave him, in word or gesture, no matter how awkwardly she bestowed it. She knew that.

And yet something still stopped her, every time.

Then the pirates attacked.

There were two ships, sailing in from Shipbreaker’s Bay, each carrying a crew of about fifty. As soon as the alarm was sounded, Brienne and Jaime had made for the harbour immediately, accompanied by all of the knights of Evenfall.

Jaime was itching for a fight, Brienne could tell. Much as he was enjoying their peaceful life at Evenfall, he was a warrior at heart, and always would be. He was smiling as he unsheathed his sword, that glint in his eye he always had before a battle, but all Brienne could feel was the sudden, all-consuming fear that she might lose him.

Before she had time to dwell on that fear, the pirates were upon them, and then all she could afford to think about was the movement of Oathkeeper in her hand. Step, slash, step, slash, twist, hack, slash. She was dimly aware of Jaime beside her, a golden blur, and tried to stay close to him, but he kept disappearing from her eyeline. He had gotten far better at fighting with his left hand, but he was nowhere near as quick as he had been, and it frightened her.

The forces of Tarth outnumbered the pirates, and they were better armed and armoured too, but the pirates did not give up easily. Brienne fought until she ached. Step, slash, step, whirl. She elbowed one in the face with her free arm while shoving her blade through the belly of another, then turned to slam her shield into someone’s face. She was bleeding somewhere, her tunic was wet with it, and she’d taken a hard blow to her back, but none of the men she fought could match Oathkeeper. It was too fast, too deadly, and she was too strong. Gradually, the men surrounding her began to drop until only a few were left. She looked around for Jaime, but in the confusion she could no longer see him.

Finally, she became aware of the pirates retreating to their ships, calling to each other. There were bodies on the ground, but as far as she could see, none of them were Tarth men. And then, as suddenly as they’d arrived, the pirates were gone.

Some of her men went into the town to see if any pirates had slipped past them. Brienne stayed back, exhausted, still searching for Jaime, but all she could see in the crowd were their household knights. Hyle Hunt gave her a clap on the shoulder, and a blessedly uninjured Pod hugged her, but there was no Jaime. Worry made her heartbeat quicken. Had they taken him? Had he been shoved into the water and drowned?

And then finally she saw him, striding towards her, bloody-faced but grinning. Dizzy with relief, she ran to him. 

“Jaime!” she breathed when she reached him, cupping his face in her hands. She turned it to the left and then the right, searching frantically for the source of the blood. “Are you well, my love?”

She was so full of concern about his injury that she did not realise what she had said until he pulled her wrist away and stared at her.

“What did you call me?” he said.

It took her a second to think of it. Then her cheeks reddened. “I—”

Without waiting for her to finish, he surged forward and kissed her, heedless of the knights still milling around, watching. For a moment she froze, taken by surprise, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, hard. Her own face was bloody now, too, but she didn’t mind.

Jaime broke away, giving her a smile so wide and beautiful and so sincerely happy that it stole the breath from her.

“Yes, sweetling,” he said. “I’m very well indeed.”

She was still blushing, but she found she could not stop smiling. “Good,” she said, and tugged on his hand. “Let’s go home.”

“Aren’t you joining me?” Jaime asked later, in the bath.

They had already tended to each other’s wounds – none of them, thankfully, were very serious – and then she had undressed him and insisted he get in the water first.

“In a moment.” Brienne took the soap and a jug of water and stood behind him. “Can I wash your hair for you?”

He turned his head to look at her, surprise on his face. “Of course,” he said. “If you wish it.”

“I do,” she said. “I do wish it.”

She sluiced the water through his hair, then massaged the soap into his scalp and gently worked through his tangled curls with her fingers, just as she had wanted to do for so long. Listening to his contented little groan as the tension left his shoulders – perhaps the loveliest sound she’d ever heard – she wondered why she had ever thought this would be difficult.

It was the easiest thing in the world.


End file.
